If not in life, then in death
by Magicke Moste Evile
Summary: OneShot. United in grief, we could not be together in life, then let death bring us closer.


**Disclaimer: **Nopes. If I were JKR, I would be rolling in money. Alas, every month, my internet bill shocks my mum, and she threatens to cut the connection

**Author's Note:** This is like a One-shot, since I find it very difficult to manage real long storied, thanks to my hectic, and tiresome routine. When I have the time, I write. I can't promise myself to one long story. Hope y'all like it.

There was a war raging outside. Every corner of a street poured blood. Every house imaginable showed signs of abandonment. Families were torn apart, lives were mercilessly put to an end, the innocent were slaughtered, and the brave were defeated. In the war between the Good and the Bad, there was no certainty; who would prevail was like a still dark mark hanging in the air, indicating signs of devastation, yet with a portion of uncertainty. The war, which had begun as a strife in the wizarding world, seeped into the domains of unknowing muggles. Now, they were also a member of this terrible battle. For them, it was a battle for survival. For them, it was the consolation that the child who had disappeared, of the family which had been found "mysteriously dead" was just a mere co-incidence; bereft of any logical explanation.

Alas, there were too many co-incidences to be called so. Soon, the muggle world geared up to fight against "elements" they did not know. It's like fighting a wizard under an invisibility cloak. You never know where he is; you never know what his next spell is. And being a muggle, pathetically dependent on guns and daggers, you could hardly combat the forces of the Dark Lord.

There was a battle raging within. A battle equally dangerous, if not more than the one raging outside. It was a battle which could be aptly described by the following words: forbidden, betrayal, uncontrollable, reckless.

She had lost her muggle parents, due to no fault of theirs, except for the fact that they had been her parents. One fine day, after a meeting with the few remaining members of the Order, she had a sudden urge to meet her parents. An unexplainable, yet strong want to feel the soft arms of her mother, the protective torso of her father. But, sometimes things turn against you. When she reached home, she saw the Dark Mark hovering above the terrace, the Dark Mark that she had seen above the Burrow, above Hogwarts and above so many houses was now above the home of her parents. She broke unto inconsolable tears. What had they done, to invite this doom upon their heads? How were they involved? All they knew was that a "powerful evil man was seeking to destroy all good" and that their daughter was seeking to destroy the powerful evil man. They had encouraged her, supported her, telling her that she was not wrong to put her life on a taut string and fight on the good side. They were proud of her, of her bravery and her courage, and her skills which, they had heard, outpaced those of quite a few renowned wizards. They were assured the security of aurors around their houses and in their locality, but they refused, not seeing the need for protection. Others needed it much more than them. And today, her worst fears were confirmed. The Dark Lord knew his ways of weakening people, and he put them to use effectively. She wept on the front porch, even as aurors and Ministry squads took the mangled, hardly-recognizable bodies of her parents. Her pillars of strength. Her mentors. Gone. Yet another couple was listed as "murder under unknown circumstances" by the local police. Everyone was sorry. They had been great people, always ready for a laugh, sociable, quiet yet fun loving and efficient professionals. Flowers were laid on their graves, and good words spoken about the deceased. However, soon the flowers withered away, and so did the memories of the dead in the minds of the people.

For days, she locked herself up in her one room apartment, refusing to meet anyone or reply to any owls, shocked at losing the closest people in her life. After a week when she came out, she had a brazen look on her face. No tears, no sorrow. Just anger. She would avenge the death of her parents.

He had lost his parents in the war. His father had rotted in Azkaban, all happiness consumed by the apathetic dementors, whose sole aim in life was to suck out souls from people. He was buried there, in the island, no funeral, no ceremony, no great words about what a remarkable wizard he had been. Just the glee of the inhuman dementors as they laid him down; he had been a good prey. He had a lot of emotions.

His mother died soon afterwards, of grief. The loss of her husband had been too much for her to bear. She stayed in her room for long, refusing meals served by the house elf, just mourning. On her last day, she lay on the bed, barely visible, poor thing was emaciated, she called for her son.

Dutifully he came, trying to hide his tears and be like the heartless man his father wanted to be, but in front of his mother, his face gave him away, and within minutes, he was crying on her bedside, begging her to let him take her to St. Mungo's, or at least eat something.

She cupped her face with her bony and weak hands. "No, darling boy," she rasped, "My end is near, and I will not prolong it. It was the life of your father that acted as a stimulant for me, and made me want to live. I had hopes, that one day, he would be back albeit a bit weak, and I'd nurse him back to life. The Dark Lord promised me that he would bring him back, but I realized that the promise was nothing but a hollow mass of words, never meant to be fulfilled…" her breathing grew jagged.

"Mother! What will I do without you?" He shouted, tearing pouring down his cheeks and raining on the bedside.

She smiled "My child, you are already 22, and that too a handsome young man. I am sure you can…fend for yourself. I am not…worried about you. I have confidence...that…that you will lead your life on the right path. Remember…it is easy to differentiate between good and bad, but to choose between…the better of the two, or to drop the worse of…the two; that is what determines…our life…." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I loved your father, in spite of his short comings…I know you loved your father too…in his memory, I wish you to….to…" but she could not complete what she wanted him to do. Her eyes closed down forever, and the sorrow was replaced by calm and tranquility that he had never seen before. All her miseries were over. But his lay beyond him.

After that, every meeting with the Dark Lord was equivalent to an increase in the hatred for him. He saw the cold slits on the Lord's face, which had mercy for no one, even his dearest followers. He saw the ruthlessness that the Dark Lord showed and with what evenness in his voice he said "kill them all". He felt the steely glances that the Dark Lord cast towards him, attempting to read his mind, but he closed them with Occlumency, hating the dark Lord even more for prying into his private life.

He became secluded, stopped talking to the rest of the death eaters and looked for excuses to not attend the meetings. But the Dark Lord didn't seem to be bothered. Probably his aunt had explained to him, that he was undergoing a mental trauma and it would be best to leave him alone until he was emotionally stable.

Then one day, they brought her to the Dark Lord's house. She was screaming and cursing the death eaters as they held her in a vice like grip. They loosened their grip and threw her in front of the Dark Lord. He lowered his gaze towards her.

"Oh, look what we got? 'The Chosen One's' best friend…" He ejaculated, in an almost childish glee. "Does that mean we get to know what Baby Potter is planning for us?"

"NO!" She yelled, her shrill voice reverberating along the walls of the house.

"No, you say? Maybe this will help…Crucio!" And there were her pitiful yells which could be heard for the next few moments.

"Liked that? Maybe it will open you up a bit, won't it?" he mocked.

"No!" She repeated with the same force. "You killed my parents, you conniving ruthless man! You killed my parents! What had they done to you? Why did you have to unleash your wrath on them? They were ignorant muggles! They had nothing to do with you! And you killed them…"

"Silencio!" He yelled. "Shut up, you filthy mudblood. Look at your audacity! You have the nerve to raise your voice against me? Yes, I ordered your parents to be killed, and you very well know the reason why. I like tickling the person in his most sensitive spot. In other words, I love using people's weaknesses against them. But of course it was sad that you had to lose them, tch tch," he put up a contrite voice, but you could sense the leering tone beneath it. "Now, I want you to tell me, what Harry Potter is planning against me. Yes, I _do_ know that he is up to something, along with his doomed Order, but I need to know what…And if you tell me, you will have the honor of joining on the winning side, that is my side. I shall award to you the Dark Mark, without any tests of loyalty. Think of that mudblood, the Dark Lord never gives the mark without a test, and you, a mere muggle born, will be getting it free," he sounded almost like a salesman, selling detergent at a lower rate. "You are a great witch. I admire the way you fought Rodolphus and managed to kill him. Remarkable. I have heard your skills are unmatched by many wizards. Of course, this goes against your muggle heritage, but we cannot ignore the fact that you are, indeed a miracle at magic. It will be wonderful having you on our side. You will have the glory, the fame and the fun of living life on an edge." He removed the silencing charm.

"You…you…you pathetic little beggar! So you kill my parents first, and then you ask me about Harry Potter's plan against you, then you also expect me to tell you, as if you're asking the directions to the neighborhood hospital. And as for being 'awarded' with the Dark Mark, I would rather die than have it engraved on my arm. It is no glory fighting for you, Voldemort"-the death eaters in the room gasped, but she ignored them-"neither is it called 'fame'. It is low and beggarly, just like you. Look, you are begging to know about Harry Potter's plan, when you could very well use the Imperius or Veritaserum, but I think your ego won't let you use the underdog ways to getting at the truth, or…" she smiled evilly, "you already know that I have invented a spell against the Imperius or Veritaserum…"

"Very intelligent, mudblood. Precisely. I know that you have come up with an effective charm against these low spells. But you are brave, it would be so much fun weedling things out of you. You have the Gryffindor blood, so you will fight to the end…you!" He pointed at one of the death eaters, who dutifully came ahead and bowed, "You've not done much for long, so here's your chance. Take her to your mansion, and get it out of her. Of course, not tricky spells; just the muggle way of doing it. Go!"

"So, how do you expect to get it out of me? Torture me?" she snorted.

"Shut up mudblood!" He barked. "I have no sympathy for people like you. The Dark Lord asks, and he gets. You need not know how I will weedle the information out of you."

"You might as well ask the giant squid for his hand, because you're not going to get anything out of me," she said coolly.

"We will see," he muttered.

Days passed by, and he showed no interest in her, or the information that the Dark Lord was seeking. She hardly saw him more than once a day, that too when she looked out of the window of the room she was given (yes, she was not chained up in a smelly old dungeon, but she was given a room, with plush carpeting and a comfortable bed) and saw him wandering about in the vast garden. The house elf served her four meals a day, and after testing it for poison, she realized that he did not ever contaminate her food. What was his ploy, she wondered? How long was she going to be kept here until he charged her with force? The longer she stayed, the more scared she got of what he was going to do next.

The next time the house elf came in to serve dinner, she asked "What is your master doing?"

"Master is, as usual, in his room reading," the house elf bowed, and laid the silver platter on the table. He turned around to go, but she said, "Wait. Can I see him?"

The house elf, contemplated, "Master has not said anything of that sort to Willie. So Willie guesses that Miss can meet him…"

He led her out of the room, across lengthy corridors, and finally stopped in front of a door. "Willie shall go now. Miss can go in." Saying this the house elf scampered away.

As she stood in front of the closed mahogany door, she weighed it over. Was this his idea of torturing her? Keeping her in seclusion until she lost her sanity? As soon as she turned away, deciding to not meet him after all, the door opened.

"Yes, mud blood what do you want?" His face, tired, and 10 years older looked at her savagely.

"I….I….I just...c-came here to…ask….well….how much l-longer are you keeping me here?" God, she felt like Quirrel.

"None of your business Miss Know-It-All," he snapped.

"You know, the Order will be looking for me, and before soon they'll find out what's happened," she said, trying to sound positive about it.

"Whatever."

"You're not at all bothered, are you? Your great almighty Dark Lord set a task for you. Now you have to complete it. Or say goodbye to your life. I've heard that the Dark Lord does not forgive those who fail to fulfill his wishes. Or is he your best mate, so maybe he'll let you go?" she snorted.

"Shut up, mudblood. Shut up!"

"Not so confident about yourself are you? Since you do not have all your sidekick pals, seems like your courage is withering. Tch tch. What happened to the boy who would want nothing but mudbloods dead? Gone soft in the heart, have you? And where are your parents? Gone on a holiday? Or are they doing the dirty killing off jobs of Voldemort?"

"My parents are dead, you fool! They're dead, just like yours! And guess who had a hand in their death? Yes, the dark Lord! And after that, he expects me to work for him?" He burst out.

"Oh. Oh. Oh" was all that she could manage to say. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know…"

"I don't need your stupid sympathy, you mudblood. I have enough on my mind without you telling me how sorry you are that my parents are dead. You challenged him for killing your parents. I cannot do anything about it, other than mourn. The Dark Lord will never spare me if I tell him this "

And without warning, he buried his head in his arms and burst into tears, venting out the pain of his long surviving wounds.

And then days passed by, but these days were different. It was just them in the manor, along with the house elf. With every secret they shared, every word of consolation they exchanged, they got closer. If your parents get killed by the same notorious person, you can't help having a weird sort of a bondage with the other person, no matter what your past relationship might be.

His dad owned a small airplane, which could fit only four. He had a tiny bit of fascination towards muggle technology, and had an airplane hidden in a hangar, which he only took out once a year to take his son and wife for a ride.

And, then there was the battle raging within. Forbidden. Dangerous. Reckless. Betrayal. Uncontrollable. On a chilly August day, an airplane crashed into the meadow that belongs to Mr. Suberworth. Two people were dead. Of course, one was the son of the rich deceased man who used to live in the posh manor. The other was a strikingly beautiful woman, whom the locals had never seen before. Their arms were entwined, and both were smiling, as if the crash was no surprise to them.

The battle outside was still waging, but the battle within was won.

**Author's Note:** Yeah, a bit angsty, and well, a bit vague too. But for one shots, these kind of stories me likey :D. They leave a sort of an open end for you to ponder about.

Adios. Keep checking in. I might be writing more. Hopefully.


End file.
